Less Than You Think
by Moose on mars
Summary: After Draco Malfoy is taken as a prisoner of the Order, Harry is assigned to guard him. At the same time he deals with trying to find horcruxes and Voldemort bringing his sixteen year old self to the present. Harry/Draco & Tom/Ginny
1. Oh, How the Mighty Have Fallen

_T__he weight of the steel_

_The flat of the blade_

_How does it feel_

_To kneel at defeat?_

_To kneel at defeat_

_At the choices you make_

**Chapter 1: Oh, How the Mighty Have Fallen**

In the basement of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, Draco Malfoy sat slumped against the wall in the first cell on the right. It was poorly lit, musty, and the sticky air seemed to cling to everything. The stone floor was caked with layers of dirt and grime centuries old, except for Draco's cell, which had been swept clean.

Draco Malfoy coughed loudly; the noise amplified by the large and mostly empty area. His hair was streaked with dirt, and his pale skin looked almost iridescent in the dark. A mattress with a crumpled blanket was pushed up against the wall, and a beaten old armchair was tucked in the corner. On the first day he was imprisoned here, he had thought, perhaps foolishly, it was something that he could endure; until he realized that he was nowhere else to go. There was no difference between night and day in the dark basement, that he had nowhere else to escape his thoughts and his unreal reality. He watched as everything he once knew, slipped through his fingertips.

He had been captured and brought to the Order of the Phoenix two weeks earlier by Mad-Eye Moody and two other Aurors. Draco preferred being captured by Dumbledore's crusaders to being captured by the Dark Lord and his sadistic followers - Dumbledore's coterie at least wouldn't kill or torture him, at least not yet. In fact, they hadn't even so much as interrogated him. As far as he was concerned, the bars of his cell protected him from the dangers of the wizarding world. Being locked away in the recondite location of the Order of the Phoenix was perhaps the safest place in evading the Dark Lord.

The last thing he remembered before waking in a cell was trampling through the underbrush of an unnamed forest, attempting to evade an infuriated centaur. Snape had left him in a forest with a few supplies, a warning, and the promise of return, and within the span of an hour he had become a fugitive from both the Dark Lord and the Order of the Phoenix. He had failed to kill Dumbledore; in doing so he had failed the Dark Lord, and returning to the Death Eaters would cost him his life. He had only two allies: his mother and Snape. To the Order of the Phoenix and the rest of the wizarding world, he was wanted as an accomplice to the murder of their unofficial leader, Albus Dumbledore, as well as planning the attack on Hogwarts.

When he finally awoke some time later in the musty basement, a stout witch informed him that he was in the Order's detention facility, and he would remain here for an indiscernible amount of time. Also, he would be guarded at all times. Personally, Draco Malfoy thought that the guards served a useless purpose as he didn't have a wand and escape was probably near impossible. No one wanted him, and no one would help him.

He never bothered to talk to the guards, and they never bothered to talk to him. Occasionally, they would cast a pitying glance at him. Draco hated it. He had seen contempt and hatred directed towards him, but never pity. No one pitied a Malfoy; however, there was nothing he could do, for was their prisoner, after all. He knew his actions completely ostracized him from the rest of the wizarding world; and in the stronghold of the order, the name Malfoy held no regard. He had nothing else behind the bars to take the focus off his constant stream of thoughts, some good, some bad, but mostly nostalgic, all contributing to his depressive state. Childhood memories, memories of Hogwarts and happier times… seemingly unimportant moments flitting around and moments that seemed cemented in his mind.

He thought back to something his father had told him. _Draco, if you're going to dig yourself into a hole you had better be able to find your way out. If you are not able to, then you are not a Slytherin. You are not a Malfoy._ He was quite certain that he could not climb his way out of this particular hole. He had not fully realized what was asked of him when he accepted his task from the Dark Lord, though it was not as if he had a choice. His father, however, had realized, and his father knew it was a hole. To refuse, back out, or worse turn traitor to the Dark Lord would cost him and his family their lives.

The night before returning to school for his sixth year, his father had called him in to the drawing room. Though he had not been in Azkaban long, his demeanor had changed since his return. He stood there, calmly looking at Draco without speaking.

"Father, you wished to speak with me," Draco asked quietly.

"Yes, I did," Lucius began slowly, as if he was focusing on the precise implication of each word, "I wished to tell you something before you return to school."

Draco's mind jumped once again to his task, the one that the Dark Lord had entrusted only him to do. At the time, it seemed like a privelidge, as if he was being done some sort of favor. His heart quickened, unsure of what his father could have to say of the role he willingly accepted; Lucius had not yet touched on the situation and Draco thought it was only a matter of time before they had a discussion. Their discussions were far from open.

"Yes, father?"

"I never wanted for you to be a part in all of this. I expected great things from you, Draco..."

Draco cut Lucius off, protesting. "Father, you _will_ see great things from me. I believe the Dark Lord has given me the chance to prove myself worthy." Draco was surprised to say the least at uncharacteristic disclosure, and more than a little concerned at his father's expression.

"Listen to me, Draco." He replied, his voice full of intent.

"I… you must understand… I was drawn to the Dark Lord, at the prospect of such great power at my disposal, to a young man barely out of school. I, too, was looking to prove myself worthy of achieving such an honor, to devote myself to a worthy cause. As of late, the Malfoy name has become tarnished, and it cannot be denied that the fault belongs to no one else but myself."

Draco watched in stunned silence as he took a breath, as if wondering how to phrase his next though. Questions raced through his mind – was this man before him really his father? What had Azkaban done to him?

Lucius continued. "I cannot deny, my apprehension in joining the Dark Lord once again after his return, for all my efforts to keep the Malfoy name from losing every good grace it once had would be surely wasted. I knew it would mean that I was sacrificing everything once again. However, I made my choice many years ago, and returned to the Dark Lord after 14 years of blessed respite, knowing, that in order to protect myself and my family; there was no other option. As I'm sure you know, Igor Karkaroff did not last long."

Lucius paused, his eyes scanning Draco's face. Not knowing what to say, Draco continued to stare back at his father, barely disguising his confusion at the words. He had never heard his father talk to him in such an unguarded manner, and was taken aback by the sensitive nature of the information his father was disclosing. It felt as if a great black curtain had fallen in his mind, but slowly the confusion gave way to burning anger, though he concealed it with strength he did no know he had.

"Do not think me a fool, boy, I know these words come as a shock most terrible, and the fault is my own. I… I have raised you like this. I have given you no choice. I have put my family and the Malfoy name at the brink of peril and dishonor. You were given this task, I am certain, as punishment to me; and should you fail, you know the consequences. You are far too young to be involved so deeply, and although it pains me to say, this is not what I had hoped for you, Draco. The life of a Malfoy is worth more than a bargaining tool." His eyes closed for a moment as he sighed deeply. "That is all."

Draco wanted to argue, to say that he was going to be the youngest inducted into the Dark Lord's ranks, that there was no higher honor. Lucius, however, had turned his back on him and faced the window, indicating that there was nothing more to say. Draco had stormed out of the room in a fit of rage, that his father was still not impressed with him. He thought his father weak for not being more eager to make up their family's losses to the Dark Lord. He was angry that his father doubted his competence.

That was the last time he had seen his father. Sitting in the dank cell, Draco realized it was an apology of sorts. His father would never apologize to anyone without great personal gain, and at the time he was too naïve to realize he was witnessing the one exception. His father knew he would not return to the Manor. His father knew he would not be able to kill Dumbledore, and therefore forfeit his own life. His father knew there was no choice. His father's last words to him, though he had not known it at the time, meant everything… They meant that at some point he had been worth something.

Sometimes he could hear the commotion of the Aurors returning from a raid. Nothing specific was ever audible, but he could hear people bustling back and forth in the house on various errands. He sighed, as at this very moment he could hear the effects of a recent Death Eater raid, and as he heard footsteps approaching his cell, he hoped his mother was safe. A wooden chair landed perhaps a little harder than necessary in front of the cell, causing Draco to jump.

Harry Potter surveyed the cell that contained Draco Malfoy with a look of disgust on his face. He had been called back from hunting down the remaining horcruxes for guard duty. Apparently, the raid and the Order needed the help of every available Auror. He had no leads, so begrudgingly he admitted that the same work could be done at Grimmauld Place, for now at least. He wasn't allowed to take full part as an Auror; so had been left to baby-sit Draco Malfoy, a task he was none too pleased about to say the least.

"So, where's your buddy Snape? Or are you no longer welcome in his presence either?"

Draco looked up and let out a hollow laugh. Harry Bloody Potter was taunting him. _Just what I needed_,_ and to think things were going so smoothly._ Draco didn't even bother looking at him, stretching out on the mattress staring up at the stone ceiling.

"Oh, believe me, Potter, if I knew where he was, you'd be the first to know," Draco said sarcastically, hoping that Potter would stop talking to him. He had no advantage trapped behind the bars. He would not welcome humiliation.

"Shut it, Malfoy. You're nothing now," Harry spat, "You know, you've gotten yourself into a funny situation. The only person that could have saved you is dead. "

"I'm still better than that Mudblood friend of yours," Draco replied scathingly.

Harry whipped out his wand and pointed it at Draco.

"You are the world's biggest git, Malfoy! She's a whole lot better than you are and you know it. I don't know why Dumbledore gave you the chance to choose another path before you set him up to die. You never deserved anything more than to be where you are right now.

Draco said nothing in response, for once. He was a spectacle, trapped behind the bars of his cell, he was filthy, and he looked a shadow of his former self. He had been given everything, only to lose it all. Taunted by the ever-righteous Potter, the death of his 'leader' adding fuel to the already blazing fire between them. He would rather go back to his memories, he would be stuck with Potter for long enough.

Potter looked him up and down and turned away with grimace. He dragged the chair back behind the only other piece of furniture in the basement, a desk. Out of his bag, Harry pulled a worn brown text and began to read, whilst Draco pointedly ignored his presence. After an hour or so without talking, a blood-curdling scream carried down into the basement over all the sound of movement upstairs. Harry stood up and pulled out his wand in one fluid movement, and the book fell clattering to the floor. Harry eyed Draco and the stairs, uncertain of what to do. Coming to a decision, Harry ran for the stairs.

"A wise decision, Mr. Potter," Draco called after him, trying to pretend he had some fight left.

The book Harry was reading lay a foot away from the cell. Draco stretched forward on all fours and reached through the bars to grasp it.

"You've… you _have_ to be kidding me," Draco said to himself as he read Hogwarts, A History emblazoned on the front cover below the Hogwarts crest. "What would Potter want with this?"

Draco pulled himself off the floor, heading towards the shabby armchair. For the first time in weeks, he had something to take his mind off his failure.

The brief intro are lyrics to Massive Attack's Flat of the Blade

A BIG thank you to my two wonderful betas: MaraudingManaged and Ex Mentis!


	2. The Late Arrival

**Chapter 2: The Late Arrival**

Ginny Weasley was in the kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, preparing medical supplies with her mother. It was tedious, but even potions was better than doing no magic at all over summer – it was better than cleaning, at any rate. Checking the clock on the wall once more, she stirred the potion in a large cauldron twice in an anti-clockwise motion, exactly as the recipe required, and then heaved it onto the table with an audible groan.

"Ginny, separate the potion into these jars here. Equally, if you please, and use the glass ladle!" Molly Weasley said as she unloaded several dozen jars onto the table from a wooden box.

"Yes, mum," Ginny, replied, wiping the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand, as she moved to find the ladle from one of the kitchen cupboards.

"And don't forget to label them this time, Ginevra," her mother reminded her with a pointed look before she scoured the cupboards in a search for other ingredients.

With the Ministry crumbling from the inside, and the positions of power being transferred over to those with darker backgrounds, most of the Aurors in the Auror office had turned to the Order of the Phoenix. An anonymous source tipped off the Order about one of Voldemort's plots; apparently a particularly disastrous one, as almost all the Aurors were gone. With her talent in potions, Ginny had been brewing much-needed restoratives all summer. She was glad that she was able to help at least a little, as she was usually left out of everything and treated as if she was _still_ a little girl. She had been staying at number twelve for a good while now with her parents and had never seen it so busy as it was this summer. There were so many witches and wizards scurrying about with supplies and orders, to say the least the atmosphere was tense. She suspected that she had been roped in to help simply to keep her out of the way. _Then again_, she thought as she found her implements, _any magic is better than no magic! _

She was almost done spooning the contents of the cauldron into the jars, when she heard a commotion coming from the hall.

"Bring him in here, quick! Austrey, you see to Shacklebolt! He got hit with a nasty cutting curse. Someone get to Dawlish and step on it, both Lestrange brothers hit him with a Stunner, more than likely something worse from the look of him."

She couldn't tell who was talking, but they were giving out orders at a frantic pace. Unsure of what else to do, she remained in the kitchen, nervously pouring the potion into the last jar, her mind automatically turning to her older brother. Charlie went out tonight with the rest of the Order, and she had been on edge all night worrying for him. The Weasleys had brought with them to Grimmauld Place their clock, which they seemed to constantly be checking. Her mother was even worse, jumping at almost any noise and constantly looking at the faces of her family. Twice that night Charlie's arrow spun around and back to 'Mortal Peril,' provoking a strangled sob from Mrs. Weasley. Currently his arrow had shifted from 'Traveling' to 'Home,' and Ginny resisted the urge to run out of the kitchen in search of her brother.

Ron had returned with Harry and Hermione, after the three had set out alone at the beginning of the summer. Ginny was incredibly curious to find out what they were up to. Not to mention she was jealous over the fact that they were so involved in the Order, and that Ron got to spend so much time with Harry. They returned earlier today to help the Order with tonight's mission, though she assumed it wasn't by choice. Hermione and Ron were in charge of coordinates and communication, and whilst Ginny wasn't sure exactly what that entailed, it sounded a little more challenging than replenishing the supply of healing potions. She'd had hardly any chance to talk to Harry, with everything being so busy at Headquarters, and now he was currently on guard duty for their only prisoner: Draco Malfoy. She felt herself shudder as she thought of the twitchy ferret stuck in the cells below the house, but pushed it aside when several Aurors burst into the kitchen carrying a boy. Ginny scrambled back to let them through. He appeared to be around sixteen years old, and was spattered with blood, which immediately made her feel like the room was spinning for a moment. He was lucky to be alive.

"Sit him down, he needs a restorative, now!" one of the Aurors yelled.

Snapping out of the daze she was in almost instantly at the command, she sought one of the jars. She turned round and handed the jar to the Auror before looking at the boy more closely, and Ginny Weasley let out a terrible scream, hands clutching at her face and throat as she backed away. _She recognized the face before her_. Indeed, she had known the face for years, for it haunted her nightmares still.

Within seconds, Harry burst through the door at the top of the stairs, wand at the ready. To his eyes Grimmauld Place didn't seem to be under attack, but rather a busy hospital ward. He could barely see past the Aurors and the medi-witches to find the source of the scream.

"What's going on?" he called out to an Auror rushing towards the kitchen, but the Auror didn't reply and simply pushed past with his wand drawn and his face grim.

Harry dashed through the flurry of activity in the hallway and made his way into the kitchen, noticing that several people crowded around a teenage boy who slumped, barely conscious, in a chair. A medi-witch was healing lesions along the outside of his forearm, which appeared to be bleeding heavily, but the boy still didn't appear to be stirring. His view was almost completely impaired by bodies and cloaks, and he was just about to push his way through until he spotted Mrs. Weasley supporting a ghost-white and horrified Ginny, practically carrying the girl out of the room. With a sense of trepidation, wondering what could have disturbed Ginny so badly, Harry frantically wedged his way through the circle and stared down at the boy. His hair was dark, like his, though his pale face was drawn and cold. Harry's eyes went wide and his stomach sank as he identified the boy, just as Ginny before him, and he wondered if the medi-witch even knew just who she was healing. He was none other than Tom Marvolo Riddle.

…...

**Many, many thanks to my enormously helpful and talented betas, who have made this story come together so well and have done such a great job!**

**MaraudingManaged Ex Mentis**

Also, I wanted to thank anyone who took the time to read this story, as well as anyone who lets me know what they think about it so far. Constructive criticism and suggestions are well accepted. It's just started & there's a long way to go!


	3. Over and Over Again

**Over and Over Again**

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Draco spotted Harry descending the stairs slowly some time later, his face a ghostly shade of white. Potter slipped behind the desk and slumped into the chair, his left elbow planted on his knee and his hand holding his forehead. He appeared to be deep in thought; however, his right hand clutched his wand so tightly it was shaking. Draco took in his changed demeanour with disinterest before returning to the book. After fifteen minutes, Potter finally broke the silence.

"Give me my book back, Malfoy," Harry asked quietly, and Draco's eyebrows flew up at his tone of voice.

"I don't think it's yours any longer, Potter. I'm quite enjoying it. I think I'll keep it!" He said with a wicked grin, before turning the page he had just finished reading.

"Tell you what Malfoy, if you don't give my book back, you'll be eating mouldy bread for the rest of your stay here," Harry threatened, moving to sit on the desk rather than behind it.

"Ah, I see. Well, Potter, I suppose that means I'm in quite the predicament."

Though his tone was calm and cool, almost mocking, Draco was beginning to seethe inside. He didn't want to lose the only source of entertainment he'd had for weeks. Neither did he want to succumb to the reminders of what he was missing, the memories that had haunted him since his first hours here. He didn't want to hope blindly for days that Snape had lied about his absence, and that his parents were still alive. No, he much preferred the dry descriptive language, and familiar images of Hogwarts.

"Whatever, Malfoy, I don't have time for this. There are more important things going on than you stealing my book." Harry acquiesced, leaning forwards once more to rub his face tiredly with his hands. Slowly he moved his head back to face the ceiling, eyes closed, as he tried to loosen the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders. Feeling calmer and a little more relaxed, he slowly opened his eyes and sighed. Draco was still looking at him, his glare replaced with a calculating stare.

Draco knew Harry could have simply _accio_-ed the book away, but he hadn't even thought of it. Something was definitely going on with Potter and he was intrigued to find out what. It was refreshing to feel the old sense of curiosity and drive return to him; until the dramatic events of this year took over, he was always compelled to get the better of Harry. Maybe he could get under Potter's skin, get him to snap. With a smirk and a plot forming, he decided to return to reading as depression was starting to get the better of him, and it would serve to piss Potter off all the more.

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Draco glanced up at Harry occasionally through his reading to find that he still had his head resting back against the top of the chair, staring at the ceiling. He seemed lost in his thoughts, and every now and again his grip would tighten around his wand, as if he was fighting back some imaginary foe. Draco broke the silence; maybe he could get some information from Potter about the war or his parents. Something small at first, perhaps?

"How long have I been here?"

Harry looked up, surprised to hear Draco's voice devoid of the snobby drawl the Gryffindors were so accustomed to. Draco looked at him intently, waiting for an answer, and Harry looked him over with an intense curiosity. Draco could tell he was taking in his appearance for the first time; the large dark bags under his eyes, and his normally shiny blonde hair now stringy, tangled, and dirty. His once stylish clothes were ripped and stained with patches of dirt, the same dirt that covered his hair and skin. He looked defeated, a far cry from the haughty boy whose prerogative had once been to humiliate Harry Potter in any way possible.

"Three months." Harry replied flatly. It seemed as if he was considering Draco's presence here, and he leaned forward, putting his elbow on the desk, chin in his hand. He looked as if he wasn't sure that he was allowed to disclose such information, and Draco rolled his eyes.

"Potter, what could I possibly do with that knowledge? Please, humour me, and answer some of my questions… it's not as if you or I have anything better to do."

"Malfoy, I have much better and more important things to be doing than watching and listening to you. I'm not telling you anything more. You don't _deserve _to know."

"Oh, but Potter, you don't. Clearly, my presence is keeping you from doing whatever it is that you could have possible deemed useful… which can't be much really, aren't you supposed to be back at Hogwarts? You didn't want to go back, and be the golden boy of Hogwarts again? Sign some more autographs, while you can win your grades from McGonagall, Flitwick, and whoever takes up Defence with that lovely scar of yours. It's a shame Dumbledore's gone really, he'd have let you lap it up, like he did every year."

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy. You're think you're so safe behind those bars, but I saw you that night. I'm not returning to Hogwarts because of you, because of what you did." Harry hissed, and Draco noted that the venom in his voice was laced with bitterness.

"So you saw me making my get-away, Potter, and you foolishly tried to duel Snape. Fat lot that's done! He scarpered right back to the Dark Lord. I don't know how that crazy old bat Dumbledore trusted him."

"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY ANYTHING ABOUT ALBUS DUMBLEDORE!" Harry, got to his feet, bellowing, and then he stopped, leaning across the desk with his weight on his hands. He eyed Malfoy, and a small smile crept across his face.

"No, I saw you, Malfoy. At the top of the astronomy tower," Harry saw Draco look at him incredulously, narrowing his eyes.

"What are you talking about?"

"I was there, with Dumbledore, you know." His voice was light, almost teasing the information. "I left with Dumbledore. I saw you lower your wand, _I saw you_. A true Slytherin, aren't you? Taking the easy way out. It would be much easier to accept Dumbledore's help than to _slither _back to Voldemort with your mission unfulfilled. You never could have killed him! You never appreciated Dumbledore for what he was, boasting about Voldemort's power and your Death Eater ties," Draco cringed at the name, staring at Harry as if he had just grown two heads. The boy continued, not taking his eyes off Draco for one second.

"Lording your supposed dark ties over everyone at Hogwarts. I know what he does to his followers, and it's not much better than his enemies, is it? You had no idea what it would be like; you thought it was something admirable, but don't you see? All you are to him, despite his promises of grandeur, is a servant. All that _pure _Malfoy blood spilled for nothing… Well, you'll always be a slave to something, even if it is your own selfish interests. You're a coward, and a Slytherin. I suppose Dumbledore _must_ be mad after all, to give you and your family a second chance without anything to gain."

"My family, what's happened to them? Tell me, Potter, are they alive?" Draco demanded, ignoring Harry's taunting and concealing his surprise that Harry had seen him ready to give it all up. Harry shrugged, and Draco rubbed his face in his hands, trying to keep the weakness and desperation out of his voice. It seemed Harry had found the one thing that mattered more than material possessions and gloating to him, and that in itself scared him. Almost as much as the death of his family did.

"Please, Potter. Are my parents, are they alive?"

"Yes."

Draco collapsed back in to the chair, relief etched all over his face. For the first time in his life, he was grateful to Harry Potter. He was also embarrassed, because it seemed Potter had seen him in his worst moments, the moments of truth. Harry had seen him lower his wand, Harry had seen him in the bathroom with Myrtle, and he had begged Harry for information about his family. He'd thrown back at Draco his own regrets and naïve assumptions, as if he'd had the answers all along. It didn't really matter any more what he thought would happen; in retrospect nothing ever really seemed to turn out the way he expected.

At least his mother and father were alive. He didn't have much dignity left, but he didn't want to throw away the rest of it begging Harry Potter for information. He would be silent for now, because at least he had some hope.

Harry didn't say anything else for the rest of his shift, but he surveyed Draco quietly. Draco's face was in his hands and his breathing was becoming heavy. He seemed broken.

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**Thanks for reading and as always reviews are most appreciated. **

**A very large thank you to my amazing betas! They always do such a wonderful job: ****Ex Mentis**** & ****MaraudingManaged**


	4. Eavesdropping

**Chapter 4: Eavesdropping**

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Ginny Weasley awoke the next morning to the sound of voices in the hall. Her stomach growled loudly as she rolled over onto her side and she rubbed her eyes as she listened to the murmuring voices. She felt as if she'd been sleeping for days, she was so bone-weary.

"She's all right, Remus. Yesterday was quite a shock for her, poor dear. Apparently only Harry and Ginny know what he looked like, and the last time they saw him, he tried to kill the both of them! No one can blame Ginny..."

"No one does, Molly. I gave her a calming draught shortly after the ordeal and she fell asleep quite quickly after that."

"Well thank you, Remus. Oh, by the way dear, Aberforth will be stopping by later to explain and debrief everything to those who haven't already heard the news. I don't know what we'd do without him, I really don't. In the meantime, Arthur said to just keep the boy sedated and not let anyone near him. When he wakes up, he's confused and sometimes angry… I don't know what to do! The story we're telling him that the people who captured him poisoned him, and that the sleeping is a side effect. I don't think he's fooled by it," Molly said with a sigh, "Still, it would be nice to have a sort of united front with him. Harry seems to think that he will grow restless sitting in this house with nothing to do and no explanations. We can't afford for him to escape and be captured."

"Well, I'm sure we'll think of something to do with him when we meet with him today. Harry said Albus had shown him several memories in a pensieve, so maybe we can use him to understand just what we're dealing with. We all know that at some point he was a boy, one that was sitting at Howarts, and that seems to be the person we have sitting in the house. Harry may know the best way to keep him at bay, or at least how he may react to certain situations"

Ginny shut her eyes as the door to her room opened. Molly Weasley walked past the threshold with a tray of steaming eggs and sausages.

"Ginny dear, how about some breakfast?" Her mother's voice was full of gentle cheer, but it seemed somewhat forced. Ginny didn't blame her.

"Is _he _here?" her voice full of trepidation.

"Well," Molly said, not exactly sure how to explain the situation, "The boy is here. Under directives from the Order and Shacklebolt, you understand, we'd never choose to have him here. Ah well, needs must! He's heavily guarded of course, and he doesn't have a wand."

"He's still not safe. It's not safe for him to be here, he's evil! Our plans are here, _he _is going to want himself back." Ginny began to panic, eyes growing wide.

"Ginny, we know who he is, but this is simply the only option we have. He's sedated right now, but we have to figure out what to do with him, and to do that he must stay here. He won't harm you dear, he doesn't know who you are. Almost the entire order is here watching him, and we're meeting today to find a safe solution…"

"He'll hurt all of us! Mum, you know who he is, don't you? He's – " Ginny sat up in bed as she pleaded with her mother.

"I know who he is, Ginny!" Molly snapped, but then closed her eyes and sighed. "I know you're scared, and I know this must be terrible for you, but he has to stay here. I know we need your help, as you knew him on a level. He is a year younger than the Tom Riddle you knew, perhaps that will make some difference. I'm so sorry for all of this, dear; but I'm afraid we haven't got much of a choice. Your father and I don't want him here any more than you do," Mrs. Weasley said gently.

"Does Harry know?"

"Yes, he does. He's upset about it as well, but he is trying to help us sort this mess out. This boy could be the most important factor in, well, the current struggle."

Ginny pursed her lips, and shook her head in a dissatisfied manner. She raked her fingers through her hair anxiously.

"Can you tell Harry I'd like to talk with him when he gets a moment?"

"Of course, dear. I'm going to go talk to Harry, do come downstairs if you feel up to it. We're keeping… that_ boy_, out of everyone's way. You don't have to worry." Mrs. Wesley fluffed Ginevra's pillows, and bustled from the room.

Ginny rolled over on her side, blinking several tears from her eyes. Her emotions were surging. She thought he was gone, she thought she would never have to see- well see wasn't the right word because she had only seen him once, briefly. She curled her legs up against her chest, and surrendered to her fears. He had tried to steal her life, and he made her do horrible things. He felt nothing for her, even though they had talked for months. She shuddered that someone was such a shell of a human being, something inhuman, that he would spend countless hours pretending, manipulating, carefully navigating people to do his bidding. His age made no difference, she knew that.

She didn't touch her breakfast and thought back to when she knew Tom Riddle. She knew he was cruel, and Harry did too. _They have no idea, _she thought, _they think he is just a boy. They don't know what he is capable of even now. He hasn't opened the chamber yet, but he has been lost in darkness for a long time now, and there is no way that boy will ever be anything other than evil_. As she continued to mull over the situation, she fell into an uneasy, tormented sleep.

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Ginny awoke in what she determined to be the evening as she peered out of the window. The sky was beginning to darken, and the last rays of the setting sun were disappearing past the gap in her curtains. With a start, she remembered the Order meeting that was supposed to take place, and Ginny was eager to eavesdrop. She rolled out of bed and stepped lightly across the floor so she didn't alert the house to the fact that she was awake, and quickly donned robes. She hoped the members of the Order assumed she was still in bed, and wouldn't bother to cast a silencing spell around the room. As she crept down the stairs, the murmurs of voices became louder, and her suspicions were confirmed. She threw one side of the extendible ears she had stolen over the banister in the direction of the living room, and the voices raised to full volume.

"Well, Harry, What do you think we should do? You seem to be convinced you know him quite well," A voice, one she didn't recognise, scoffed.

"Listen Bogwaffer, if Dumbledore showed you his collection of pensieves on the matter, then you wouldn't be arguing with me." Harry's voice was raised, "All of you have no idea what sort of a person he is, if he can even be called that. He is someone who has no idea of what it is to be human, in fact he does not wish to be human. He craves power for himself over everyone, and above all he will do anything to get it. Even now, he is contemplating his first kill. Give him 6 months, and he will have killed his father. We can't let him know that he is a captive; at the very least he needs to think this is the safest place for him. That's going to be difficult, mind, as the last thing he wants is help from anyone."

"What if we erase what we can of his memory," Another witch suggested.

"Hestia, he could have information that we _need_! Information on how He-who-must-not-be-named got where he is today, maybe what he might be planning!" Arthur interjected.

"And you think he has any intention of telling us? He is already suspicious. Harry says he operates alone, I doubt he'd be willing to help us let alone anyone," Tonks added.

"Not if we can offer him something he wants," Harry said quietly, as Ginny's heart skipped a beat. "He may be inhuman, self-serving, drawn to power and all the symbols of it, but if we have something he wants then he might... then we might be able to have some control over him. We'd have to be careful though, he will go to any means…"

"What could we offer him that wouldn't be detrimental to us?" Kingsley's deep voice interrupted.

"That's the hard part," Harry continued, voice thoughtful "the things that Tom Riddle values most are power over those around him, independence, conquering all of his weaknesses as a human. According to Dumbledore, he is trying to be everything that his mother was not. He is devoid of the most human emotions; especially love, which was the downfall of his mother and he sees it as a weakness."

The room was silent, Ginny could tell everyone was surprised to say the least at Harry's insight into Tom Riddle; it was doubtful that anyone had so much a clue about his past. Hearing Harry spill the details of the early life and tendencies of He-who-must-not-be-named was a rarity, and Ginny could assume that everyone was paying rapt attention.

"So, where we have our chance is giving Riddle things he never had; wizarding objects that are highly valued, famous even, would be a good start. Or, maybe certain knowledge of power he is constantly seeking, but that could be dangerous. Also, it's going to be hard explaining everything to him, without explaining too much."

"I think I might have something that will help," an almost familiar voice drew the attention of everyone in the room. "Dumbledore left me this, actually, he left you this Harry, amongst a couple of other things he asked me to give to you. He said you would know what to do with this particularly."

"That… might work," Harry said, and from what Ginny could tell he was surprised. Ginny, scrambled to get up the stairs before the meeting let out.

She had heard enough, and although the Order had their plans she wanted to leave nothing to chance. Tom Riddle may be predictable, but she could do something no one else would, something to ensure that they could at least keep Tom Riddle where they wanted him. As she pushed open the door to her room, plans were already forming in her head.

**Thank you for reading, and as always I love reviews! **

**Thank you betas for doing such a great job: Ex Mentis and MaraudingManaged are such a help!**


	5. Malfeasance

**Chapter 5: Malfeasance**

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"Potter! Potter, do wake up! Someone will come down and see that you're sleeping on the job! Oh, wait, too late!"

Malfoy's voice rang out from the cell across the dingy basement. Harry Potter clumsily rolled off the chair he had been sleeping on, and fell to the floor, to Draco's great amusement.

Harry hadn't been down to guard him for several days, and it seemed during the time (considering his unkempt appearance and dark circles under his eyes) Harry had not slept until now. It was not long after he stumbled down the stairs, pointedly ignoring Malfoy, he had fallen into a deep sleep. Draco amused himself with thinking of creative insults to throw at Potter once he awoke, though he refrained from doing so in the presence of the woman supplying him with food.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy, that will do," Molly Weasley chided, and Draco rolled his eyes.

"Harry, you poor dear, you must be exhausted. I don't know why you decided to come down here. Remus said he'd take care of things."

"S'all right, Mrs. Weasley. I didn't think I was going to fall asleep." Harry said sleepily.

"I suppose he is our most dangerous prisoner. He's also the only prisoner, so the Order wants every added precaution that we can afford. Come along, it's time for breakfast, dear."

"Someone will be down with yours soon enough, Draco." Mrs. Weasley added somewhat sourly.

"I can hardly wait," Draco drawled after them as Harry, with a yawn, followed Mrs. Weasley up the stairs to the kitchen. Before she opened the door, she turned to Harry.

"Now, dear, you remember our…" Mrs Weasley paused as she searched for the right word, "…guest? He, well, we don't really have much of a choice, do we?"

Mrs. Weasley seemed to be trying to convince Harry just as much as herself. He gave her a curious look and nodded for her to continue. He hadn't seen or heard of Tom Riddle since the night he arrived.

"Well, I've been informed by the Order that _he_," Molly deliberately avoided saying his name, "will be staying here indefinitely. He's not to be a prisoner, per say, but he needs to be kept under a watchful eye. That's Remus' job, but since he's doing that, we need someone to take over Draco Malfoy's care. I know you two didn't necessarily get on in school … "

Harry snorted, but he replied seriously, "I'll do it, he wasn't too terrible last night."

"Harry, you are such a dear. Breakfast is soon, and our guest will be joining you…" Mrs. Weasley informed him with a slightly apologetic expression, before she was cut-off.

"Excuse me…" Draco yelled up the stairs, "How clever, Potter, you forgot to close the door down here. Things are already looking better for me. Maybe next you'll accidentally leave the cell open." He couldn't resist provoking Harry for making mistakes; he was afforded few distractions from boredom and depression. Hogwarts, a History wasn't exactly as captivating as he hoped the 7th time around.

"That is _enough, _Draco!" Mrs. Weasley huffed. She clearly didn't like being the one to tell off a boy the same age as her son, imprisoned in the basement. "As I was saying, Harry, we'll be having a meeting this afternoon, busy day ahead! Oh, and before I forget, Ginny wanted to talk to you when you get the chance."

Harry gulped. He had been avoiding her since he had returned to Grimmauld Place. He still had feelings for her, and being in a confined area with her probably wasn't the best way to cope with them. Harry followed warily behind Mrs. Weasley into the kitchen, and spotted the Order's 'guest' at the end of the table casually watching him. He sat down and poured some pumpkin juice for himself, pointedly ignoring the dark-haired boy and considering his current, _awkward_, situation with Ginny. For a few minutes Harry sat lost in his thoughts before a familiar voice pulled him back from his reverie.

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**Thank you everyone for reading, and an extra thanks for reviewing! Let me know what you think -**

**Ex Mentis and MaraudingManaged are my wonderfully insightful betas, and I must thank them for helping me with this adventure. **


	6. Between the Banisters

Before we get started, I wanted to thank all of you who have been reading this story. I'm trying to write a story that I would want to read myself, so it's hard. Mostly I want to thank my betas for helping me so much getting this all together **Ex Mentis**, you catch all the grammar/spelling issues I miss. **Saltwater** you saved the plot! So the show is back on the road. If you like it, please review.

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Oh the tangled neurons we weave... simply to exist.

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**Chapter 6: Between the Banisters**

Over the next couple of days, Ginny had taken to spying in the corridors, and avoiding Tom Riddle. At the moment she was currently perched at the top of the stairs with an extendable ear dangling from her left ear. She tended to have breakfast in her room, brought to her by her sympathetic mother. Sometimes Molly would bring up a package or two of potions supplies, and she had been quite pleased that Ginny seemed to be channeling her energy into her studies – something she seemed to be doing a lot more now that Tom was lurking around the house. Ginny tried not to make too much noise as she crept down the stairs, pausing on the fifth stair from the bottom to toss the other end of the extendable in between the banisters. Fred and George's extendable ears had proven invaluable.

Ginny's mother helped her pay for extra supplies, when she could, hoping that Ginny could get ahead of her school-work for next year. Ginny was grateful that she could spend a good portion of her time alone putting her plan into motion without anyone worrying about what she was up to, not that anyone did. Surprisingly, no one had yet noticed the flesh colored cord occasionally hanging over a banister or casually laying just over the threshold of a room.

Ginny winced slightly as the stairs creaked from her shifting her weight to get a better look into the kitchen. She was reminded of Order meeting, and what she needed to do to subdue Tom Riddle – she had to be more careful; there was no room for error. Whether motivated by revenge or motivated by the need to do something no one else had thought of, or at least no one else was willing to do. Not to mention, she was sure that had she suggested it, her plan would have been shot down in a second. Not because it wasn't clever, but because it was risky.

In the time that she wasn't making preparations, she crept around the house. She kept tabs on Riddle's every move, and hopefully any plans.

"Would you please pass the pumpkin juice?" Tom Riddle's soft voice wafted quietly out of the kitchen, a smooth self-assurance in his tone. His head tilted slightly as he casually glanced up at the boy sitting three seats away from him

He had been revived and told that his purpose here was that of a potion ingredient for a power-hungry megalomaniac. The Order hoped that his want for self-preservation would outweigh the allure of a powerful, dark wizard. Thus far it seemed to be working. Riddle was allowed to read what he thought were all the books in the house. In reality, Ginny had helped her mother clean out any book in the library that could influence Tom in a subversive manner. This, for the most part, left any book written by a Hufflepuff, children's tales, wizarding history until 1945, and any school-books from first or second year. The household blamed the lack of books on an eccentric descendent of the Black house having burned the majority of the library in a fit of rage, and emphasized the dire state of affairs outside of Grimmauld Place.

To Ginny's fortune, she was party to hiding all the contraband books, and easily found exactly what she needed to get Tom Riddle under her control. The though of turning the tables on Tom made Ginny swell with resolve and determination, for she had been haunted by his memory every since she left the Chamber of Secrets.

Harry coughed and pushed the pitcher slightly in Tom's direction without looking at him. He was reading from a big tome, and Ginny supposed it was just so Harry would have an excuse not to talk to Tom. He reached for the container, and tentatively poured himself a glass, ignoring the furtive glances from Mrs. Weasley and the assessing glares from Harry. _Well, He's not stupid_, she thought, _it's not going to take him very long to figure out what's going on. Let's just hope it's later rather than sooner._

"Have we met before?" Tom Riddle's voice once again broke the silence. Harry gave him a glare, but didn't answer him. Tom sighed audibly and ran his fingers through his hair. Another awkward silence stretched onwards without any indication of ending. From what Ginny could tell, Riddle had figured out he was not the most popular person in the house.

Finally, Harry suddenly burst out defensively, as if he'd been pondering the very question all along, "How old are you?"

"I turned fifteen in December," Tom replied calmly, with a warm smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. Ginny knew he was trying to appear polite, and she also knew it was him battling for control of the situation. Charming was one word that most people would have considered him.

"My name is Tom Riddle," he offered, one last attempt at amiable conversation.

"I know, I'm Harry Potter," Harry said, carefully watching Tom's reaction.

"Nice to meet you, Harry," was his only response, and Harry relaxed slightly, as if he had been half expecting Voldemort's former self to recognize him.

Mrs. Weasley moved over to the table with a fresh plate of eggs, bacon, and toast, and the boys hesitantly served themselves.

"There's more coming, so don't be polite, boys, eat up. Hermione and Ron will be back in a couple hours, they left rather early this morning for The Burrow to meet Oliver."

"Oliver Wood?" Harry queried.

"Yes, well as you know Puddlemere United and the rest of the teams have been disbanded. Half the players were being called into the ministry for questioning. Well, anyway he decided to come and" Mrs. Weasley hesitated again with a glance at Tom, "…help out around here."

Harry seemed pleased with this new bit of information concerning his old schoolmate's arrival, and tucked into his eggs more enthusiastically.

"Anyone I should know?" Tom asked with a small smile, dark eyebrows raised questioningly. Ginny could tell that he was gathering all the information he could, so that he might be able to have some grasp on the situation. After overhearing what Harry had said in the meeting, she surmised that his inability to control where he was, and in a place where he knew very little, was stressful to him, to say the least. Harry paused for a moment, deciding that some information was better than no information for Tom Riddle.

"I went to school with him. We played Quidditch together," Harry answered, glancing in his direction. Tom's mouth opened slightly in understanding and he nodded.

"Oh, really? Did you go to Hogwarts, then?"

"Yes." Harry gave him another glance before turning to his eggs once more.

Tom's eyes rested on Harry while he lifted his fork, topped with eggs, to his mouth. Tom was already thinking of how to categorize each of them, and to what use they were to him. However, Mrs. Weasley interrupted once more to clear their plates.

"Harry, would you mind showing Tom the library before taking the rest of your break from Mr. Malfoy's tomfoolery?"

"Sure, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, clearing his plate from the table.

Mrs. Weasley turned towards Tom, "You said you liked to read, and there's not much else to do around the place. Unfortunately though, there's not much of a selection," Mrs. Weasley paused before adding, "and it's not as if we are free to leave whenever we like, what with them watching the house."

Ginny knew Mrs. Weasley added the last bit trying to give an idea of just how bad things were becoming, with both sides watching every move, just to keep Tom from asking too many questions or trying to leave. Tom wiped his mouth, and stood up. Ginny shot up, taking the stairs two at a time as quietly as she could.

"It's this way," Harry said before exiting the kitchen through the door on the right. Ginny heard them creaking up the stairs and down the hallway. She opened her door a crack and watched Tom filing down the hall behind Harry. Harry took the door on the right, which opened into a dusty room filled with piles of books stacked throughout the room and plenty of empty shelves, a result of Ginny and Mrs. Weasley's book purging. Ginny watched as Harry gestured around the room.

"We're re-organizing," Harry explained hastily, "I don't know why Mrs. Weasley said you could look through here, but I'll have you know: I'm sure someone is keeping an eye on you."

"Is that a threat or a warning?" Tom replied, with a bit of a surprised grin.

"Both," Harry replied calmly, hesitating in making an exit.

"Why am I here?" Tom asked seriously, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice.

Harry looked at him almost pityingly before answering, "I don't know. We're trying to figure that out."

"You know something, I can tell. I know this is the future of some sort, or a different reality." Tom's voice once again became strained and demanding, it reminded Ginny somewhat of a petulant and defensive child. However, when he spoke next, his voice was free of impatience, and he once again sounded politely puzzled.

"So, what year is it?"

"It's 1997," Harry replied cautiously.

"No harm in giving that away," Tom smiled, though exasperation was seeping into his voice, "I would have figured that out soon enough. And Grindelwald?"

Tom had already realized they were giving him selective information.

"Defeated," Harry replied uneasily, looking over his shoulder towards the hallway.

"By Albus Dumbledore?" Tom asked, eyes narrowing. His now casual tone in no way betrayed the calculating look in his eyes.

"Yes," said Harry with finality, turning to leave.

"How did I get here? I'd prefer to return to my own time!" Tom added, his voice sounded incredulous, as if he didn't quite believe the turn of events and was trying to maintain good humor.

"I'm sure you'll find out that most people here would prefer you return to your own time too." Harry paused, visibly debating with himself whether to reveal any more information.

Harry sighed.

"Just remember, he wanted to use you to increase his power. You would have been dead if we hadn't gone in there. I'm not trying to be rude, but I'm pretty sure you don't want _that_ to happen again. When we found you… let's just say you're safer here than anywhere else."

Harry walked out of the library, leaving Tom with those cryptic words and still not too many answers. Ginny leaped back from the door and onto her bed as she heard Harry's footsteps approach her door. Harry rapped gently on the door, to which Ginny replied in a quiet voice,

"Come in."

"Hey, Gin," Harry said, closing the door behind him, "You wanted to talk to me?" Harry stood in the room awkwardly, while Ginny pulled herself out from the blankets on her bed.

"You don't have to stand," she said nodding towards the end of the bed. Harry sat down on the edge, clearly uncomfortable. Ginny could understand why, but she now had far greater concerns than her and Harry's break.

"It's about _him_," she started, "why is he here? I didn't think I'd ever have to see him again. He should be locked up with Malfoy in the prison downstairs."

"It's a bit of a complicated matter, Gin," Harry said regretfully, scratching the back of his head and looking the other way.

"Harry, you know I'm not stupid. By the way, you, Ron, and Hermione keep enough from me as it is."

"I didn't say you were, of course you're not. It's just, we don't really know _what_ to do with him. We can't imprison him because we don't want him to escape and re-join Voldemort. Also, we need to see what information he'll give us. None of us know why he is here, we can only guess that Voldemort wanted to use him."

Ginny pursed her lips and looked up at Harry. She hadn't really talked to him since Bill and Fleur's wedding. They both had been avoiding each other, which proved difficult living in the same house every couple weeks while Harry was around, and only served to make matters more awkward. She knew why Harry couldn't date her anymore, but that didn't make it easier for either of them. Harry looked at her with understanding and continued.

"He doesn't want to be here either, I talked to him today for a minute. All I know is, Voldemort brought him here to the future for some reason, probably to increase his powers. Dark magic, very dark stuff."

"Oh." Ginny said, unsure of what else there was to say, and now unsure if Harry did know something that he would tell her. "Well, I guess that's that. You should get some sleep," Ginny said, noticing the dark circles under Harry's eyes.

"Yeah, it's been a long day." Harry said, standing up and moving towards the door.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for talking to me. I was just shocked when I saw him."

"Don't worry about it. I was too, we'll sort everything out."

Ginny smiled as Harry shut the door behind him. She had to pretend as if she hadn't overheard most of the meeting, and seeing as they weren't likely to lock Tom up, the time for her to act was getting shorter and shorter. Her talk with Harry confirmed that if she wanted to know what was going on, she would have to find out for herself. Ginny bit her thumb nail deep in thought before she shook her head to clear her thoughts. Sighing as she pushed herself out of her bed, she made her way over to the closet and flung open the door. The potion would take two and a half weeks. The ashwinder eggs, the second most difficult ingredient to obtain, she had managed to get from Mundugus Fletcher, which was not hard with a little bit of charm and a trinket or two from the Black house. Ginny closed her eyes for a second, internally quashing any remaining doubts about the plan and took a deep breath before she pulled several hangers aside and yanked her trunk out from the back of the closet.

She had taken a page out of Mundungus' own book, instead of trading these priceless objects, she slyly duplicated a few of the remaining valuables left in the house, including an ancient-looking amulet encrusted with a fiery red stone that was warm to the touch. Her eyes wandered over to the floorboard several feet away where she had found these treasures while looking for an adequate hiding place for her supplies. Ginny was smart enough not to touch the amulet directly, but wrapped it in a cloth before duplicating it – still she could feel the haunting warmth pressing through the fabric.

An hour later, her eyes roved the list of ingredients on a particularly stained page in a book whose ancient leather cover was crumbling in her fingers. The belladonna essence, the wine, the rose petals, and the water had all been easy enough to gather. The belladonna she still had from her potions kit from Hogwarts, as well as the rose petals. This morning she had nicked a cup of wine from her mother's stash in the kitchen. The five Veela hairs would be the most difficult to obtain for most wizards, and lucky for Ginny, Fleur would be coming to stay in one day before helping her family move abroad.

Ginny's finger tapped at the only remaining ingredient on the page. The potion called for Veela hair, and Fleur was only part Veela; however, this was exactly what Ginny was looking for, as she didn't want a full-blown, conspicuous amortentia potion. With a few minor alterations to the brewing, Ginny would have a delicate, slowly strengthening batch of the most important thing Tom Riddle was blind to.


	7. Learned, Ancient, Mixed History

**Chapter 7: Learned, Ancient, Mixed History**

_It's hard to see anything else when you're reading a script._

It was Bill Weasley who brought down Draco Malfoy's breakfast. Draco sat on the moth-eaten, slightly salmon colored armchair. Bill had taken over the guard shift, at his mother's request, to give Harry a bit of a break. Though he was still injured from his altercation with Fenrir Greyback, he had come to help out at Grimmauld Place after his honey moon, as Fleur would be meeting him there once she helped her parents go into hiding. The only reason Draco recognized him was his red hair, and the scars on his face. He had seen Bill Weasley mauled by Fenrir, or rather the beginning of it. The memories of his last day at Hogwarts were in fragments, it was as if he was flipping through photos of a nightmare. Snape dragging Draco through the castle, as he watched the frozen expressions of his former classmates yelling curses as they rebounded and splashed in colors brighter than ever all around him. It felt as if someone else was moving his body, and right before the great oak doors swung shut behind Snape and himself, he turned unintentionally to take one final look at his childhood before reality collided and the world came crashing down - at that moment still in time. He was filled with confusion upon the realization that the hall behind him was not the hall he was leaving at Hogwarts, as that hall and his final glance at the battle raging within were not his final glance at Hogwarts... it had happened long before he was pulled through the doors by his forearm, before he saw Fenrir leap onto a red-haired young man, howling and laughing as he dug deep into his flesh. It was at that imbruement, that exact moment of vulgar crimson, that Draco realized he had long since left childhood.

Bill surveyed Draco's cell before slowly sinking into the only chair in the room. Draco, who had been flitting through the pages of a book, turned to look at the noise. Bill nodded in his direction; feeling some form of pity towards the boy's hopeless state, as he would probably be spending more of his life behind bars than not. To him, a boy his youngest brother's age was merely embroiled in a conflict greater than himself, too young to realize. But now was not the time for mistakes, now was not the time for acting without consequences.

Uncurling his legs from their tucked position, Malfoy, feeling particularly sorry for himself today, decided to take out some of his frustrations on Bill - though it was obvious Malfoy was unaware of the subconscious motivations for doing so. It would be several months before Draco realized his bullying revealed only his own weaknesses, as opposed to hiding them.

"So, Weasley, enjoying your stay? It's almost the full moon, you know?"

Draco had no idea whether it was the full moon or not, but antagonizing a Weasley came naturally. He supposed that whether or not it was the full moon was irrelevant, and Draco sought to remind Bill of his inadequacies. He was also forgetting that Bill hadn't given him his breakfast yet.

"Malfoy, you and I aren't in Hogwarts, we aren't children anymore – I haven't been a child for quite some time now. I think it's high time we dispense with the school-boy antics. Do we really want to make each other miserable for the next several hours, and every day after that I have to guard your high-ness? Mmm?" Bill said tiredly leaning in his chair. He was afraid it was going to be a rather long shift, and he didn't have the energy to deal with the lashings out of an imprisoned and petulant seventeen year old.

"By the way, it isn't even close to the full moon. Not that it would matter," Bill added, shrugging.

The next few minutes passed in silence, as Bill had successfully made Draco feel petty for his asinine comments.

"I didn't know he was coming," Draco said quietly, as he stole glances at Bill's scarred face. The wounds were scabbed over, angry, and red, they looked as if they had barely begun to heal.

"Is that so? I guess when you open the door you never know what's coming in." Bill said glumly.

"My friends were in there too." Draco offered back as a morose addition.

When Bill didn't respond he continued, "For what it's worth, he said he'd kill me and my family if I didn't." Draco said quietly, almost to himself.

"Is that an apology, Malfoy? I'm not going to sit here and ask you for one. My wife still married me, I'm alive, and you're young… people make mistakes, though it's a time where people can't afford it. I don't doubt that you think about what's happened every day. I know I will," Bill said seriously.

Draco didn't say a word; he just shrugged and pretended to clean the dirt out from under his nails.

Once again, he thought of his family, and doubted that any person in the old Black house had any idea what it was like. To choose the wrong thing; to choose the wrong thing and know it… because he was scared, because that's who he was. He knew full well that no one in the house would ever understand. Potter's parents chose to die to save him. He chose to do the Dark Lord's bidding to save his parents. Even Draco would admit that the two events were not comparable, but it wasn't as if he wanted things to turn out this way.

Bill stood up and walked over to Draco's cell with the plate of food, tapped it once with the tip of his wand, and passed it through the gap in the bottom of the bars meant to be a food slot. Draco sullenly walked over and grabbed the plate with a grimace. Upon returning to the armchair, he pushed bits of scrambled egg around the place, occasionally taking a bite. It came as no surprise to Draco that food wasn't as appealing these days.

"You're skinny enough already Malfoy, you don't need to watch your figure… so you might as well tuck into those eggs," Bill said with a bleak smile, a truth of sorts.

"You know, Weasley, I can't tell you how relieved I am that you've noticed," Draco said with a smirk, a far cry from the smug looks he had an endless supply of at Hogwarts. Though Draco felt relief in being able to construct a façade, and pretend to banter. Draco considered Bill for a moment, he didn't seem to be like the rest of the hot-headed Weasley goons he was usually fighting, and he reasoned, after all he was rather starved for company.

Bill shook his head and lowered it, his shiny red scars reflecting in the torchlight. He was sitting away from the desk, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his knees.

"So, who is your wife?" Draco asked between bites. Bill frowned at Draco's casual tone, before responding.

"I guess it couldn't hurt to tell you… Fleur Delacour, well…Weasley now."

Draco's fork clattered to the floor, and he quickly reached down to pick it up. His eyebrows knotted together, and he looked incredulously at Bill – most animosity forgotten.

"You're kidding, Weasley," Draco said in disbelief, "How on earth did you manage that?"

"Oh, a good old-fashioned love potion… no, we actually worked together for a while at Gringott's," Bill smiled, conversationally answering Draco, though his expression still conveyed his reservations.

"Well, congratulations, I suppose," Draco shrugged, and looked down at his plate.

"Well thanks, it means a lot coming from a Malfoy," Bill said without venom.

"Of course it does, it's the highest blessing in the wizarding world, naturally; filthy, imprisoned, or otherwise." Malfoy said haughtily, trying at humor. At least someone in this place might bother to have a conversation with me, Draco thought pessimistically. Not that he wanted to have a conversation with anyone he could guess that might be in the house, it had been quite some time since someone had bothered to even utter any words directed at him, other than Potter – and that wasn't exactly the type of interaction Draco was looking for.

Bill chuckled. Both Bill and Malfoy simultaneously thought that perhaps this wouldn't be as terrible as each of them predicted it would be upon seeing each other. Draco was still quite miserable, but at least he had someone to talk to. His voice had been becoming raspy with disuse, he would rather not think about the onslaught of events leading up until this point in his life, and if his father only knew... he stopped his thoughts before they trailed off and Draco returned to his book, and Bill returned to his for the next several hours.

The comfortable silence was interrupted when one of the Weasley twins came flouncing down the stairs, accompanied by what one could only assume to be the sound of a wildebeest crashing through several stories of wooden floor.

"Billy boy!" he said with confidence and a flash of pearly white.

"Hullo, Fred."

"Umm, well, you see," Fred said, suddenly turning bashful, "You know, there's that meeting in, um, say ten minutes, and well... I mean, would you go with me?"

"Did Mum send you to get me?"

"Er, no. Ron did."

"I'm supposed to guarding down here, Mum's orders."

"I see, I suppose I'll have to take a rain check on that one, then. We can't really leave Ginny to watch him." Fred said loudly, jabbing his thumb in Draco's direction before bouncing back up the stairs.

"You know, incest is illegal, Weasley," a voice echoed from inside the first cell, and Bill turned to face Draco.

"Well, the Malfoy's would know all about that law, eh?" Bill said grinning, "Fred was just being his normal exuberant self."

"I see," Draco said uninterestedly, pretending to fix his hair.

"You know, Malfoy, I'm not sure fixing your hair is going to help terribly much," Bill said in an amused tone.

"I disagree." Draco responded, still maintaining his blasé demeanor.

"One thing is for sure, you don't belong in a place like this. No one your age does, but I guess you get what you pay for."

"No? Did you forget, Weasley? I'm the reason you're a werewolf." Bill winced, as Draco rubbed salt in a wound that would never heal. "I let the Death Eaters into the school, I cornered your omniscient leader. Your Order is severely lacking resources now. Their spy turned turncoat. According to everyone in this dilapidated house, this is where I belong."

Bill sighed before replying, calmly, "I am not a werewolf, and as for the rest of it, I can tell you're a bit sensitive on the subject."

"You're not a werewolf?" Draco inquired, fixing Bill with a surprised glance and forgetting the rest of Bill's response.

"No, though I have a bit of a penchant for raw meat now."

"Well, I suppose that's good. I am relieved." Draco said curtly.

"Impressive, been rehearsing that, Malfoy?" Harry said, walking tiredly across the room. "Bill, I've come to relieve you of your duties."

"Yes, sir! I bid you gentlemen adieu," Bill said with a flourish, earning a smile from Harry and a smirk from Draco before he left to catch the beginning of the meeting.

After Bill left, an awkward silence filled the room. Draco yawned loudly and returned to Harry's stolen book. Harry sighed and plopped down into the chair outside Draco's cell. Fortunately, he had brought with him a bag full of books to keep him occupied. He set about studying Relics of Wizarding History by A.R. Creevy. Draco furtively raised his eyes to view the title of Harry's book, wondering if he could bargain a more interesting read.

"Goodness, Potter, did Granger pick out all of your bedtime reading for you? Your summer reading is unbelievably dry," Draco drawled, eyeing Harry cockily.

"Well, aren't you witty," Potter replied blandly.

"I try," Draco said, stretching his arms out and feigning a loud yawn to convey that he was rather bored with Potter's presence.

"So, do you have any food for me?"

"Oh, I almost forgot."

Potter reached into his bag and pulled out a covered plate. Tapping it with his wand, he roughly pushed it through the food slot.

"Scrumptious, Potter, a sandwich," Draco said with distaste, and Potter rolled his eyes.

Draco took a hesitant bite, and swallowed a mouthful. His appetite had slightly returned after a somewhat favorable distraction from his morose thoughts.

"So, good meeting?"

"What? I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said defensively.

"I heard from upstairs, you forgot to shut the basement door," Draco lied, remembering one of the identical Weasley's announcing such a thing.

"Oh. It wasn't important."

"So Potter, how's the girlfriend?" Draco asked good-naturedly, bringing the sandwich to his mouth, launching off on another conversation topic he could prod at Harry with. Tearing away a bite, he looked up at Potter's face expectantly. Potter rolled his eyes. Boring Potter with his boring books and boring girlfriend, Draco thought. Draco also couldn't help wondering what would have happened the past year if he hadn't had to worry about the Dark Lord's mission. Would he have had a girlfriend too? Instead of allowing his thoughts to travel further, he settled on irritating Harry.

"Potter, what would you do if I tried to escape?" Draco sounded hopeful, though it was suffice to say he didn't feel that way.

"Key word there Malfoy, is '_try_'," Harry said, uninterested.

Well that didn't work. Lift Sandwich. Bite down. Pull out. Chew. Repeat.

"My, my, Potter, are you really wearing red underwear? Gryffindor 'til the end, eh?"

"I beg your pardon?" Harry stood and turned around looking for a hole in his robes.

"Just venturing a guess…"

Potter turned bright red at the fact that Malfoy had not only guessed the color of his drawers, but had made such a spectacle of him quite easily. Angrily, Harry sat back down, and picked up the book again. Ten points to me, Draco thought, though unfortunately it reminded him once more of Hogwarts and his satisfaction was short lived.

"Aren't I supposed to have some sort of recreation time? What kind of prison is this?" Draco blurted out. He knew perfectly well that prisoners did not get 'outdoors time' in Azkaban, though he figured it was another thing to distract Potter from whatever it is that he was trying to do.

Harry looked at him as if he had suggested a seven-course gourmet meal be brought to him immediately, with dessert.

"Malfoy, I don't even go outside here."

"Why not?" Draco said for the sake of argument. He enjoyed pushing Harry for another response, and felt some contentment at having some semblance of control in this situation, if distracting Harry from his book could be considered control of the circumstances.

"It's dangerous- Are we seriously having a civil conversation?"

It was Draco's turn to roll his eyes.

"No."

"I wanted to confirm that I wasn't hallucinating," Harry said.

"Anyway, I thought you liked to live life on the edge. Break some rules... Go outside… Get away with it. You know, the typical Harry Potter deal."

"Oh, if only someone needed the definition of the word misconception."

"Oh, Potter, that earned a chortle, indeed. When did your vocabulary evolve from that of a Neanderthal, and you begin to read books? Seriously, though, Potter, you should go outside."

"Oh yes, good suggestion, Malfoy. I'll be on my way then."

"Oh, yes, yes. Always at my command, Potter. Also, while you're getting bossed around by me, do open this cell."

Potter didn't answer. The silence stretched on, and Draco lay back onto the mattress. Potter was reading.

"Potter, why are you reading such dense literary works?"

"Research."

"For what?"

"To make an indoor Quidditch pitch."

"Potter, you're a genius. We could put it down here." Draco said sarcastically. Potter looked up with a smirk.

"Clearly you're not serious," Draco drawled, "I got my hopes up and everything."

Potter shook his head, and looked back at the book. He had clearly taken a leaf from the Mudblood's book. He sighed loudly and shut the book with a crack.

"Yeah, this stuff is pretty dry. I honestly have no interest in Helga Hufflepuff's three hundred formal ball gowns and their designers."

"How strange, I always pictured you as some sort of seamstress' assistant, or perhaps that was Weasley. It must have been, maybe then he could afford decent robes."

"Malfoy," Harry said warningly.

"Potter..." Malfoy snorted.

"Give it a rest, will you?"

"I don't think I will, I find I have more than enough time on my hands. You on the other hand..." Draco taunted, and he knew it was a low blow - bringing up the Dark Lord's 'interest' in Harry.

Harry's jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed behind his glasses.

"Well, we'll see about that won't we," Harry said cryptically, hoping to end the exchange. Though Draco was less than happy to let it go, and became more enthusiastic in goading him.

"Well maybe one of your little Weasley fan-club will be next before you, I suppose? No? Who else then?"

"I'm warning you, Malfoy..."

"I want to say that Dumbledore wasn't the first... oh right, Cedric Diggory, but I heard he didn't put up much of a fight," Draco said pretending to ponder.

"Don't you dare bring up Dumbledore... I've warned you for the last time. How can you even be proud of that? You're the one sitting behind bars, filthy and homeless. I'm sure your parents are probably quite humiliated, if not worse!" Harry glowered.

There, Draco had finally provoked a response, though it wasn't enough - he was angry now. It was becoming less of a game.

"You know I don't give two shits about that crazy old mudblood lover-"

Crack! Draco jumped as Harry bolted up; the chair he was sitting in overturned and hit the stone floor echoing around the empty room. Potter was looking at him; studying him. His eyes were wide, and he was thinking; weighing his options. His fist was clenched around the wand that was pointing in his direction.

Draco glared at him, and said quietly, "Yes, come after the person that can't defend himself."

* * *

After another particularly exhausting Order meeting, Bill headed towards the stairs to the basement. It seemed as if they were having meetings morning, noon, and night. At the convening they had discussed the fate of Tom Riddle, and the mysterious plot of You-Know-Who. It was clear that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had less than good intentions for the boy; however, the Order was still divided as what to do with him. Silence greeted him once he reached the bottom of the stairwell. Continuing through the door at the bottom of the stairs, Bill caught sight of Harry standing up with his wand pointing at Draco who was glaring him.

"Harry, you can go up for now and have a bit of a rest." Bill said, hoping to disarm the situation.

"Thanks," Harry said, looking back at Malfoy once before he stormed upstairs.

"Just you and me, princess," Draco drawled to Bill. To Draco surprise, Bill chuckled.

"Yeah, darling."


End file.
